


The Test Market

by prinxe



Category: Acquisitions Inc., The C Team
Genre: But also Mid-Canon?, Fluff, Gen, It's Pre-C Team but Mid-A Team, My Jim and Audra bond over wine and cheese fanfic can have little a Dranmagic...as a treat., Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinxe/pseuds/prinxe
Summary: Jim Darkmagic installs the Test Market. Audra Courtier babysits.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	The Test Market

“What was Ominifis like as a child?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s hard to imagine he was ever a fucking kid but--” Jim cocks his head to one side, frowning at the painting above the fireplace. It is not as if he has not seen it before; he lived in this sleepy little town for the better part of a decade, had spent his fair share of nights here despite Omin’s mother’s protests. He had seen over the shoulders of men and women he’d woo’d for the evening the painting of Omin and his two sisters damn near every night for seven years.

It is familiar and unfamiliar all at once. This was not an Omin he knew. This was not his boss, his roommate, his friend. Jim gestures at the painting with flourish, turning around to face her. “There’s the proof he didn’t  _ spring forth, _ fully formed at forty years old with a stick up his ass.”

Audra takes a long, slow sip from her glass, following Jim around the Dran and Courtier’s foyer with her eyes as he returned to work. Watching, attentively, as he draws on the walls and the floors runes in all shapes and sizes in pale pink chalk. Runes heavy and thick with magic, the chalk lighting up in neon pink when he connected the lines just so, before they vanished to the naked eye.

_ I am sending an employee to the Dran and Courtier for a few days, _ Omin had said in a letter, because he always sent  _ letters,  _ toneless and unsentimental, instead of making the trip to Red Larch himself. _ He is a professional, and quite good at what he does, and will explain what he intends to do to the Inn in detail if you need him to. Respond only if you have any protests or concerns. _

Jim had made his promises to Propha-- _ it’s perfectly safe, your customers won’t even know they’re there, when the spell is active the runes will be completely invisible and without the activation component, anyone who could detect the spell would be unable to do anything about it, anyway.  _

Prophetess Dran had many _ concerns, _ but none so strong that she could protest to Jim casting his magic all over her home  _ outright.  _ Without much else to say about the matter beyond  _ don’t break anything, _ Jim was given near free reign of the Inn to put the Test Market spell in place.

Propha asked her wife to babysit him while she took care of her customers, did the cooking and the cleaning. She chops wood outback while her wife keeps a careful eye on the wizard.

“Ominifis was…” Audra pauses to think, and to refill her glass of frostberry wine-- deep indigo in color, floral and tart in taste. Stalling as she thought of a kind way to word it. “Ambitious.”

“Is,” Jim corrects, not bothering to turn around from a door frame he was working on. He draws an unsatisfactory circle, chuffs at it, and erases it with his thumb. “I mean like the  _ real  _ shit, lady.” There’s a beat. “Miss. Ma’am.”

Audra laughs. “It’s hard to say much more than that. No surprising twists and turns, here, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, come on. Did he pick his nose?” 

“If he did, he was  _ very _ sneaky about it.”

“Any imaginary friends?”

“Just his extremely real sisters.”

“Bad grades?”   
“Ominifis? Are you serious?”

“I knew that was a long shot. Come on, you’re killing me here. Was he collicky?”

“I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t there when he and Auspicia were infants.”

Jim stops in the middle of a line, stares at it. Knows he has misstepped, but unsure if it warrants an apology. “Right, yeah. Stepmom,” he mumbles. He moves past the moment and finishes the rune.“So he was never embarrassing or anything. No wild stories about being afraid of monsters under the bed or bad acne.”

Audra shrugs before biting into a cracker smeared with cheese. “I’m afraid he was blessed with elven skin, perfect and genetically flawless.”

_ “Gods. _ That’s so unfair.” Jim tosses the chalk over his shoulder while he inspects the work on the doorframe. The chalk itself vanishes, zipping away into some pocket dimension before it could shatter on a table. “Allright, I think I got everything for now.” He claps his hands, the runes flashing white before fading into the wood and stone, once again invisible to the naked eye.

Satisfied, he turns around and shoots the painting above the fireplace another look, starting an unwinnable game of Don’t Blink with a pair of dark green painted eyes. Omin stares back, happier than Jim had ever seen him. Jim is unsure Omin is capable of such joy; it must be an artistic liberty. “He was a cute kid.”

“He’s beautiful,” Audra agrees, somewhat solemn. She tilts her head, her expression slowly falling into neutral even as Jim pulls out a chair across from her and pours himself a glass of wine before topping hers off. “He was always bright. Smart as a whip. He takes after his mother.”

“He’s still smart,” Jim remarks, feeling the air go heavy. He takes a long drink of wine and focuses his attention on the fire. 

Audra hesitates, knowing the answer before she asks the question; unable to stop herself all the same. “Is he coming?”

Jim shakes his head, before shoving a cracker and some grapes into his mouth. He talks with his mouth full, gesturing broadly at his handiwork around the Inn. “Nah, he trusts me to get this shit done. I’m gonna have Morgaen, Vi and some interns run it a few times to make sure no one, like, dies though.”

“Dies?” Audra startles.

“Because it’s incomplete,” Jim says, holding out a hand reassuringly. He takes a struggled swallow of his food, too much at one time. “It shouldn’t...kill people. Ideally. At worst someone could get stuck in there but they’d have to like...fucking refuse to continue, and no one’s  _ that  _ stupid.”   
“Ah, so it’s art, not science,” Audra says, relaxing. She smiles wryly. “You’re different than I expected, Mr. Darkmagic.”

“Jim.” He leans forward, rolling out a purr with a seductive cock of an eyebrow. “ _ Mister _ Darkmagic if you’re  _ nas-- _ ”

“You finish that sentence and you lose a hand, boy.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying. Just Jim, though.” He frowns at his wine and flicks his eyes up at her, going for aloof and failing. “What’d you expect, though? What’d Omin say about me? I want  _ deets.” _

“Just that you were a  _ professional _ and you were good at your job,” Audra laughs gently, swirling her glass around, slow and lazy. The wine already rushing to her neck and behind her eyes-- a pleasant warmth that made the words come slower, clumsier. “I figured he’d tell me if you were funny, but that’s Ominifis for you.”

_ “Ominifis,” _ Jim repeats, holding onto each syllable just a second too long. He says it a few more times before wrinkling his nose. “Lord. That’s such a mouthful.”

“Old habits die hard. How is he, anyway? It’s been a long time since he’s been home. Does he seem well?”

“He’s fine, I guess.”

“Is he happy?,” Audra presses.

Jim shrugs, shaking the wine bottle, determining how much is left, and if he should share. “I guess? He’s not  _ unhappy. _ He seemed kinda pissed about some work shit Vi did, and Morgaen fucking… vanished,  _ again, _ so he’s doing that thing where he’s really annoyed at her but knows she can and  _ will  _ kill him from three hundred yards away if he talks shit so he’s ignoring it but wants everyone to  _ know  _ he’s ignoring it.” He finishes his glass before taking the last swig from the bottle itself.

He exhales, hard, and near-slams the bottle down before turning to look back up at the underlit painting and the young boy Omin had been. 

Audra snickers, loud and impolite enough that it snaps Jim’s attention to her. “You know him well. Are you two…?” She holds up her hand and crosses her fingers with a cock of her eyebrow.

Jim’s shoulders stiffen. “O-only if you believe Neverwinter tabloids. No, though. We’re not…” He mimics the gesture with Mage Hand and hopes the flash of it distracts from the blush he can feel rising through his neck and into his cheeks and ears. 

“Right, right. It’s just you’re… nevermind. Are you hungry? You’ve been at it for hours. I’m sure we have some leftovers. Something more substantial than some crackers.” Audra stands up, picking up the empty tray. “I might even have more wine. I import that, you know. From Barovia.”

“Grub would be great.” Jim knocks back the last of the wine in his glass, frowning when he realizes there’s even less in it than he realized. “... I’m what?”

“Hm?”   
“You were going to say something. About me and uh. Omin.”

Audra purses her lips, forcing back a smile. “Oh, you know. You’re  _ just _ his type, is all. He and Auspicia fought over a boy in grade school that was your spitting image.”

Jim laughs, part legitimate, part forced. The creep of a blush that had started before flourishing now and made worse by the wine. “It’s hard to imagine him getting into a tiff about something that dumb. Were he and his sister really like that??”

“He was, until Auspicia died.”

Jim avoids her eye. Staring instead at a curl of hair by her ear, or maybe a freckle on her nose. Trying not to look over at the smiling, happy painting of Audra’s long dead daughter. “Right. Sorry, I--”

“It’s quite alright. No harm done.”

“Yeah.” Jim knows the moment has passed; grouches internally and his inability to continue to pick his way through Audra’s childhood stories of Omin until she elaborates on being  _ his type. _ “Actually, I should probably skeedaddle. Got a long day tomorrow. There’s a dozen or so more of these I gotta make.” 

He gets to his feet and bows, a little too fast thanks to the wine, and holds it a  _ little _ too long while his head swims. “It was nice meeting you, ma’am. I’ll tell Omin you guys said hi.”

She watches as Jim squats, and draws a circular rune on the floor with his finger that flickers purple and black. “Tell him his family misses him and would like confirmation that he’s alive and well from time to time,  _ especially _ if his friend knows how to make teleportation circles. Oh, and Jim?

Jim flicks his eyes up at her. “Hm?”

“Just  _ Audra _ will do.”

He grins, giving her a half-hearted salute. “Gotcha. See ya later, lady.” The rune overtakes him, enveloping him in purple flame, before it fades away.

Propha shoves the door open with her shoulder, four good sized split logs under one of her arms. “Gods above, I thought he’d never leave.”

Audra kisses her cheek. “He’s not so bad. I approve of this one.”

“Oh, don’t even  _ joke.” _

**Author's Note:**

> I just like that Propha and Omin both have performers in their lives and wanted to explore what kind of dynamic they might have. Audra Courtier: My Secret Favorite. I wrote this before we found out Jim lived in Red Larch for a while so it's unlikely he's never MET her before, but uhhhh let's assume Audra was off doing that Vistani Traveling Performer Thing and it just never happened until now.
> 
> Also: Assume, at all times, that anything I write is either implied or explicit Dranmagic.


End file.
